


Indifference

by Gallifrey_Immigrant



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who: Virgin New Adventures - Various Authors
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 23:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9095734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallifrey_Immigrant/pseuds/Gallifrey_Immigrant
Summary: Roz meets a mysterious painter in a quiet city, and debates the value of violence with him.





	

Roz slowly walked down the street. At this late hour, she was now the only person she could see. Of course, that didn't mean she was the only person in the city. Years of being an Adjudicator had taught her that most of what really mattered in a city happened in these weekends hours of the night. It was the deals in the light that kept the city bustling, but it was the secret deals of the night that kept the city from collapsing.  
She couldn't hear any deals right now, but she could hear whistling from up ahead. It was a older man with a paintbrush in hand, creating some sort of design. It looked like a face, a rather pretty, round face. The painter seemed to have placed extra effort into the eyes, making them stand out. His eyes seemed blue, and cold, containing the force of a wave. His mouth was whispering something, and he looked pained.  
"Do you regularly sneak up on old men while he's painting?" said the painter. His voice was of the Scottish Isles, which set Roz off. She hadn't seen any Scotsmen in this colony in a long tine.He didn't look back, nor did he stop painting.

"It's a nice painting," said Roz.

"Really? I'm just copying another, much better original. The one who made the original is much more talented. He's also great with local knowledge, so if you're ever in Bristol during the early twenty-first century, look him up," said the painter.

Roz had gotten closers to him, without even realizing it. There seemed to be an energy about him, that felt both exclusive and inclusive at the same time. Their eyes met, and just for a second, Roz felt like a tidal wave had slammed into her mind. It was gone after a moment, and if Roz hadn't been trained by her travels with the Doctor, she wouldn't have noticed.

This man wasn't human at all. He might not even be from this time period. Roz silently snaked her hand to her gun holster, ready for danger.

His eyes darted to her hand. His face transformed into a look between disgust and disapproval. How could he know she had a gun?  
For a few seconds, the painter stared her down. Roz decided to do something to break the tension. Carefully, she took the hand not resting on her holster, and held out to shake.

"My name is Roz Forrester. Who are you painting?" asked Roz. The man stared at her hand, like he didn't quite get it. Then he shook it, firmly.

"To be honest, I don't know who I'm painting. I know her name, and I know her face, but I don't know why it's important. And I'm starting to feel like I'm not supposed to remember. And I don't like it when I'm not supposed to do something, and I don't know why," said the man. He sighed, and it sounded like a long bellow.

"Perhaps you'll remember in time," offered Roz.

The man frowned, his worry etching odd patterns across his craggy face.

"Time,in my short life, isn't always so kind," said the man. He looked at the clear sky, peppered with the inevitable poisonous byproducts of the machines used to keep Lido running. Sniffing the air, his whole body shivered, like something had just shocked him. His eyes locked into hers, and a feeling of dread entered her body.

"Why did you come to this city, Roz?" asked the painter. He said Roz's name like they were old friends. Roz couldnt be sure he wasn't--being a time traveler meant sometimes you meant your friends for the first time after they already met you.

But there was something else about him. Something more intense.

"I wanted to see the sights? Why do you want to know?," said Roz.

"That is not the question. The question is:what do I know, and why do I know it?" said the painter.

"Just get to the point", Roz said. She didn't like people who tried to play mysterious. She got enough of that from the Doctor.

"This city will be destroyed within the next two days. There is nothing that can be done to avoid it's destruction. All you, and the previous incarnation of me you travel with, can do is evacuate the survivors," said the Doctor. He said it like it was a simple fact of life.

Roz hadn't been expecting to hear that. This man looked nothing like the short black haired man with the umbrella she travelled with. This Doctor wore a black holey hoodie, and was taller. His body looked older, and his face carried frown. Still had a Scottish accent, and he had the same sharp stare, like he had tasted millenia of experience.

Still, Roz wasn't convinced. It could still be a trick (it wouldn't be the first time she met an impostor of the Doctor.)

"How do you know that's true? If you know what's going to happen, why are you even here?" said Roz.

"Because, a doomed city really is a good a place as any to start painting," said the Doctor. He wiped some paint from his black cloak, and looked at his painting. Looking satisfied, he began to walk down the street, away from Roz.

Then he stopped, and turned back. He walked up to Roz, and raised his finger.

"Clara's her name. The painting, I mean. And there was something else I meant to tell you...oh yes. You always reach for your gun when you're afraid. Why?"

"Usually because something's trying to kill me," said Roz.

"Oh, Roz. Guns didn't save this city from burning. And it won't save you. The universe is far too indifferent for that," said the Doctor.

"I don't always use it to kill. Sometimes it's to protect. Sometimes my gun helps me save someone's life," said Roz.

"Always the Adjudicator. Thinking if it's to protect, it's okay. I suppose there are worse philosophies to have," said the Doctor.

Roz felt herself get heated. The man looked different, but still had the same self-righteousness.

"Isn't that what you do? Destroy empires, topple governments, do the unthinkable, in order to protect? I mean, crukking hell, that what's you brought me and Chris for!" said Roz. A small part of her felt silly for screaming at an old man.

"Yes, I did. And that was wrong. I'm not a general, I'm just a random man in a blue box," the Doctor said.

"You may think it's wrong, but I helped people. I mean, we help people. Chris, the Doctor and I, we save lives. That's what keeps me going every day," said Roz.

The Doctor's eyes darkened. Something Roz said made his face crumble, and for a second Roz thought he was gonna cry.

"But at what cost, my dear soldier?" asked the Doctor. Roz wasn't sure he was asking her or himself. She didn't get a chance to ask him, as his face reassembled into a serious expression. With no trace of his previous glumness, he turned around, walking down the road.

"You humans have such short lives. Enjoy yours, Roz Forrester," said the Doctor.

Roz watched him go, until he was just a black spot in the distance.  
All that was left of his presence was the beautiful portrait. Roz wondered whether the woman had been a companion of that Doctor's. If so, why wouldn't he want to remember?

By the next day, fire began to appear in the sky. By the day after that, the city began to burn. The Doctor--the one with the umbrella--wasn't fazed, claiming that some politician got caught doing something particularly illegal during the night, and decided to preemptively attack the city. By the time the officials could respond, it was too late.

Roz, Chris, and the Doctor helped the survivors. At least, as much as they could. They couldn't save everyone. The universe is far too indifferent for that.


End file.
